


Hot cat on a tin roof

by CrookedCat



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrookedCat/pseuds/CrookedCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex on the roof. That's it.<br/>No specific universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot cat on a tin roof

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this sort of an response to that awful sex scene on the roof in New52 Catwoman. Nothing deeper than that really. The title is a play on the film/play 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof'. I know, it's not funny.
> 
> English is not my first language.

I kiss him first, I always kiss first.

Not all men of course, but always him. At first he's always so passive about the whole thing. In the beginning I almost felt like I was forcing myself on him. He's still trying to resist me for a while before he finally gives in and I feel his big muscular arms gently (kind of) wrap around my waist and I find myself thinking that if this was an old Hollywood movie I would probably be swooning right now. But this isn't some movie and I'm not some damsel in distress. We're just two animals on a roof in Gotham, craving some sort of intimacy. A cat and a bat.

I try not to overthink it, if I do I might back out, but I still have a hard time understanding what he's gaining from this. He doesn't seem like a man that hooks up with women just to blow off some steam. And I myself don't usually have sex with strangers (if it's not for money, but I quit that a long time ago) but it's something about him that makes me want more. Maybe I'm just being dragged with the hype of this mysterious man that everybody has an opinion on but it doesn't sound like me. I'm usually so cautious (especially about men) and carefully keeping my head cold and of course I don't let myself trust him. But when he's kissing me and that cape is flapping around us and I smell him, for a split second: I let my guard down. It scares and excites me and I can't stand it as the same time I want more.

We are not unfamiliar with the kissing, quite the opposite, we've been meeting for weeks now, catching brief moments of touching before something got in the way, whether it might been police sirens or a quarrel. But this night is different; you can always feel that beforehand. As my fingers trace down his back I've already having trouble remembering what we had been talking about and what led up to this situation. We had met on this roof, for the first time for no actual reason other than that we wanted to see each other. I almost fell for his excuse about wanting information on a break in (that he knew I had no clue about) but I didn’t really try to hide my purpose for seeking him out. He’d been joking and that’s a real rarity. I guess it made me feel special in a way that I thought I was too cynical to feel. But there’s just something in the air tonight…

My fingers search down to his belt (not a regular leather one but a utility belt he's so proud of) and there I find a split in the fabric and I don't hesitate to let my sharp gloves caress his rippled stomach. He break the kiss but keep his head close to mine, not in protest but probably just being as confused and hard thinking as I am, knowing where this will lead and still being so powerless to stop it. His skin is bruised and scarred. It looks almost white in the city light and in contrast to my black gloves.

So he is just human after all.

I let my fake nail follow one of the faint lightning shaped scars upwards until I reach his chest. He won't raise his arms and allow me to take the top off. Now I know where the line is. His hands follow my curves down as I reach forward to taste other parts of his body besides his lips. He's warm and sweaty and taste like zinc. His hands aren't as big as my buttocks but he still manages to get a firm grip and I smile for myself. Now my lips are below his navel and I attempt to open his belt but he just push my hands away and tells me to let him do it instead. I’m not surprised and as he’s struggling I lean back and start to slowly unzip my costume from my neck. As I reach my chest he starts to become a bit distracted as I’m not wearing a bra. I don’t really need one since the cat suit’s so tight even though I usually wear one anyway, (extra padding always comes in handy in a fight) but this time I took an active choice leaving it behind.

Now his belt is off and my zipper’s almost all the way down and we collide into each other’s arms again and kiss with a heat I’m starting to suspect I’ve never known. Our knees are starting to bend to decide a choice of position and my breasts breaks free from my suit. I refuse to be under so I take charge and soon he’s sitting on the floor with me straddling his lap and I can feel he’s hard underneath me. My suit really isn’t comfortable being wet in and it’s almost glued at my parts between my legs. I hesitate with the clothing. Taking of ours masks is not an option. Even though we both have the urge to just rip our clothes off, it could be devastating right now (we're on top of a roof, goddammit). And I’m not sure he would ever trust me enough to show his real persona to me and I’m probably sure I feel the same. Not right in this moment though, but instead I bite the top of my finger and let my gloves come off and he does the same.

As soon as we place our hands on the other’s body again reality his us like a rock. All of a sudden we're much more naked, much more vulnerable. We freeze for a moment then we lean in again, much softer this time, noting there’s a person behind that mask. I'm a little surprised to find I don't feel intimidated by this Batman at all. He doesn't give me any signals I'm usually aware off and it feels weird. And the heat is already built up and about to reach new proportions. His arms reach behind my back underneath my suit and then find my breasts. His hands are warm and look magnificent too my beautiful assets and he place some kisses on them that slightly tickles. I’m first with reaching down (stroking past myself on the way which was a pleasant surprise) and I dig down with my fingers until I have a firm grip on it. He’s big. Of course. I release it from the cloth and work him slowly. I glance at his face and I’ve never been so turned on by a man before. His gaze is lowered and forehead wrinkled and his breath is heavy and I quickly reach down too open my suit all the way and then his hand meet mine and he flick my underwear at the side and find my button and I gasp and invades his mouth and think I’m going crazy. The suits will have to do. I open my mouth and is about to release a: “Wait” but somehow there’s already a condom in his hand and I think it annoys me (he’s always so prepared) but I don’t think more about it because now it’s on and I lower myself on him.

Everybody’s afraid of him and call him bad names, well, I can't say a lot of people have anything nice to say about me, but when we're this close I can almost grasp his true essence, and it's much sweeter than I thought it would be. It surprises me, annoys me, but it also wakes something inside of me I'm afraid to talk about. Maybe that's why I do it, that's why we meet again and again. We don't want to talk about it, and maybe accept it for ourselves, so we just let our bodies do the talking. It's simpler that way and no questions get asked. Even though we’re strangers, and we’re only half dressed and my panties is scuffing my leg and we don’t know if we’ll talk tomorrow, all I can think about is: perfect. He feels so perfect right now inside me I’m almost afraid to move. But when I do we start moaning immediately and it’s almost becoming unbearable in a way it often is when you’re having someone for the first time. It’s like an addiction you just want to have more off and we’re pressing against each other so hard my body’s aching. We’re panting, already soaking in sweat and fluids and grinding everything that’s possible.

”Catwoman...” I flinch and felt a sudden anger rose in my stomach. “Use my real name!” it screams but it calms down quickly. I don't know why I want to be so close to him. I stop for a while to collect myself, he looks at me questioningly but instead of answering him I just begin to ride him more fiercely and his head tilts back in pleasure. But as I stare into the mask I get that string of uncertainty again. We don't know each other. I don't know who he is, maybe he knows who I am (Mr. Detective) but other than that.

All we have is this.

If we would eat a nice dinner and maybe take into a nice hotel, would we have anything to talk about? Anything in common at all? All of these things doesn't matter, shouldn't matter, but the fact that I'm thinking them is not a good sign. It means something but we don't want to drape it in words. I’m sure he feels it too; he’s not made of steel. But right now I can’t let it matter. Right now all we have is this pleasure that feels like it’s almost tearing me apart. It's more as if we're holding on to each other instead of just holding each other and we speed up. As I reach down to touch myself I wonder for a faint moment if anyone have seen us since we’re quite exposed.  
“Let them watch” is one of the last things I think before the pleasure takes over and my hand is locked in a circular motion and I press my forehead into his shoulder and he’s moaning in my ear and I can’t hold a tiny scream as I come.

We’re both twitching as our breathings begin to slow down and suddenly I feel so very heavy. And my suit is extremely wet and uncomfortable and I slide off him. It still feels good. We both almost collapse on the floor; me still on top of him. His arms are around me and I concentrate on the parts of our skin touching, still wet from the sweat. It’s a little windy and it feels cold against my back and he throws his cape around us like a blanket. After all that’s happened this last half hour it makes me smile. We just lie there for a while, I’m being soothed by his heartbeats that are slowing down and his arms never let go off me. I let my nose stroke his jawline as I speak.  
“Wow… I really hope there isn’t a little traumatized child with binoculars in a window somewhere” He chuckles and it sounds like a humming in my ear.  
“To be honest, I’m not sure I want anyone to witness that”

His hand start to slowly caress my back, probably because I’m going a bit cold but I start to I feel even more exposed and vulnerable than before. He wants to be close. A closeness I can’t give him. I just give him a quick peck on the mouth before I start to pull myself up.  
“You really are a sweet man”  
“Not really” he mutters.  
“Yes you are” I say and point at him to emphasize my words. “Just shut up and take my compliment; they’re a privilege” I look down, decide there’s just nothing else to do but to go home and take a shower, so I start to pull my zipper up. This part is always so glamorous. You’re sweaty, messy, trying to put on your clothes in the most normal way you can even though they’re moist and smelly. All while trying to not look at each other too much but not too little. Not make it weird. Because suddenly it’s almost forgotten that, minutes ago, you were practically conjoined. I struggle a bit with my zipper, trying to make the damp fabric glide on my skin. I have goose bumps from the cold and close my suit all the way to my neck (not letting my cleave show as I do sometimes, to tease him).

I had turned half away when I was getting dressed but now turn back to look at him. He’s already done, only getting his cape ready so it looks the right kind of gloomy and intimidating. I’m about to smile but he suddenly looks at me with those questioning eyes again and I don’t want to have this conversation, so I just hush him and put my finger over his lips.  
“Don’t spoil it, sweetheart” I say and before I can stop myself I press my lips against his again. God, I don’t want to want this man so bad, he’s nothing but trouble. I break away from the kiss too quick (like in a dramatic scene from a film) and I run away. Like always.


End file.
